


upside down yes

by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader)



Series: batbro angst (alt: sorry dickie g) [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, attempted date-rape, batfam, but only attempted, i uhhh almost made this fluffy but then i remembered who tf i am, sorry dickie g but idk how to resist angst when it comes to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: Sometimes people target Dick Grayson as Dick Grayson, not Nightwing. And sometimes it's not even because he's Wayne's oldest heir.Sometimes, it's a good thing he'd got people looking out for him.





	upside down yes

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on tumblr as timdrakeothy

Dick wiped sweat from his brow, swaying where he stood. 

Fifteen minutes ago, he’d felt totally fine, but ever since then, he’d been slipping. He wasn’t sure what happened, but it felt like the Wayne Manor ballroom was getting hotter and hotter, until finally he was  _sure_ he was near the ovens. 

Had he wandered over towards the kitchen? Was he really that tired from the last three weeks of back to back patrol nights? 

Was he really so far out of it, that he didn’t know where he was? 

Because of his confusion, it took him a moment to realize that, no, he was still on the opposite side of the manor. He was far from the kitchens, and he was standing right near the open balcony doors. It was also night time, in October, in Gotham, so the logical side of his brain knew he had no reason to be feeling so overly warm. 

However, the logical side of his brain also felt like it was overheated, too. Not like it was over _working_ – more like it was lying out in the sun. Like it was trying to take a nap. Like it was just having a hard time processing things and just wanted to function on automatic. 

A mental fog, he realized. He almost felt too sleepy to care, yet his body also didn’t want to  _sleep_. 

Dick leaned heavily against the doorway, for once not caring a lick about appearances at this party. 

Something was wrong, and he knew it. But he was also too out of it to really process it. So he simply stood against the doorway, looking a little lost. He was just starting to wonder if he should answer the infrequent buzzing in his pocket (his phone? was someone texting him?) when he heard a voice in front of him. 

“Hey,” the voice said, a pretty, feminine thing. Dick found himself smiling up at her. “Poor thing, you look like you need a break from the party.” 

“What, a break?” Dick asked, mouth feeling a little dry, his tongue sitting heavily in his mouth. But instead of saying ‘no thanks, I’m fine’ like he wanted to… He couldn’t help but think kindly of this sweet lady who was paying attention to him. Who was fussing over him. He managed a lopsided smile. “I think I could go for one, actually. Feels like an  _oven_ over here.” 

Without thinking, Dick brought clumsy ( _clumsy_ , why was that setting off alarm bells in his head…?) hands up to his tie. He tried to loosen it, but struggled too much to make any progress. 

The woman seemed to notice his struggle and take pity on him, because she stepped closer – now pinning him to the wall, blocking his exit, taking up all of his personal space – and helped him take it off. Once it was off, she left it undone, then slowly started undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

Dick hadn’t realized how secluded this part of the ballroom was till then. 

How… empty it was. 

It struck him that he didn’t remember walking over here, just that it was cooler over here –  _too_ cold, actually. People had complained. That’s right. This was the cold room, everyone else was gathered in the main room because it was warmer… 

“Are you still overheating?” the woman asked, after the buttons on his shirt were half undone, and his vest had been pulled open. 

Dick’s head started to feel heavy. He wanted to ask why she was asking, but he couldn’t manage much more than a head-tilt. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, poor thing,” she said, voice still sweet like honey. Dick was starting to wonder about why this lady was here. As sweet as she was, he got the feeling that she was… 

Familiar. 

 _Familiar_. Across the room earlier. Winked at him as he took a glass from a mysterious benefactor. 

That was almost an hour ago, though. He barely remembered the last half-hour. Before that… 

Dick scrubbed a hand down his face. Something was wrong, and his head couldn’t quite wrap around to confront it. If he could just break this mental fog, if he could just stop feeling so overly warm… Maybe things would start adding up. 

“My room’s air conditioning is set to the highest setting,” she was saying, and Dick idly tuned back in. He wondered if she knew how little he was really processing. He almost asked, but his eyes drooped and he started to feel… 

Dick felt himself sag forward against her. 

“My, you’re heavier than you look,” she said. “Looks like you certainly need a rest, though. A nice break from the party. I think my room might be good for you… Would you like that?” 

He didn’t manage a yes or a no answer. Instead, Dick just leaned on her, not trying to escape, not even trying to puzzle through it anymore. He was too tired. Too out of it. Too… fuzzy. 

Then, out of nowhere, a more familiar voice cut through the fog. 

 _“Dick?”_  

“Tim,” Dick said, or thought he did, because his mouth still felt like it was disconnected from his brain. “You’re here…?” 

The woman in front of him suddenly pushed him back, to where it looked like Dick was just leaning against the wall. His body couldn’t quite keep up with the vertigo though, and he braced a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Without it, he had the distinct feeling that he might have fallen. The thought made him feel queasy.

“Am I interrupting something?” Tim asked, and Dick didn’t have to wonder what the scene looked like. Dick laughed, but it sounded a little drunk, maybe a little hoarse – and he didn’t know why he felt so thirsty, but he did. Tim didn’t sound drunk, though. Not when he spoke next. Not when he spoke to the woman who was holding Dick. When neither Dick nor the woman answered immediately, Tim’s voice hardened. “I need to talk to my brother about something.” 

The woman didn’t seem happy. She kept Dick propped up, none too gently nudging him when his head bobbed down. 

“He and I were in the middle of something,” she said, and that honey-sweet voice didn’t sound so sweet anymore. Dick frowned, having trouble putting it all together. “I’m sure it can wait a little longer. It’s a  _party_ , after all.” She smiled. “He wants to have some fun, let him.” 

Dick wondered if he was hallucinating when he saw the dark look on Tim’s face. That, more than anything, prompted him to try and push away. To try and support himself, walk over to his little brother, see what was making him make that face. 

The only problem was when he pushed forward, he was uncoordinated. And the woman trying to hold him in place didn’t help matters. He barely had the strength to stand and walk; he definitely didn’t have the coordination to push her away, too. 

But when he faltered, Tim was at his side in an instant. 

In a rush of movement that Dick couldn’t track with his eyes, the woman was pushed to the side, and Tim had slung Dick’s arm over his shoulders. Despite Tim being a good several inches shorter, he supported him without difficulty. Dick appreciated not faceplanting into the ground. 

The woman was trying to say something, maybe trying to insist that he was fine. But Tim’s voice talked over hers, and Dick was grateful for the lower pitch and familiar cadence. Less grating on his ears; less of a struggle to doze off to. 

But Tim’s voice was the  _only_ thing about him that was trying to put him to sleep, it seemed, because soon he was being moved faster, asked questions, being encouraged to stay awake and stay ‘with him’, as if Dick had much of a choice in where he was being led. 

“‘m fine,” he tried to say, words all a jumble. “Jus’… take me to my room…?” 

“Not when we have a facility downstairs that can test you for  _literally anything_ ,” Tim said, sounding kind of pissed at Dick. Or maybe pissed at someone else and just taking it out on him. Dick didn’t feel smart enough to make the distinction right now. “We’re going to see if we can get you an antidote, or something to make it less potent.” 

“Mm.” 

“And in order for that to work, I’m going to need you to  _stay awake_.” Tim sounded like he was trying to be authoritative, really. It was just that it was hard to take much of anything seriously right then. Hard to stay awake. To keep his eyes open.

Dick stopped moving his feet forward, kind of just standing there for a moment more. 

“Dick. Come on,” Tim said. “Come on. I’ve got you. We’re close.” 

“Tired,” he said, and it came out like a sigh. “Just… sit.” 

Tim tensed. Then, he got out his phone and worked on a text with the hand that was free and not supporting Dick. “No,” he said as he typed. “Keep walking, Dick. Come on. You’re more stubborn than this.” 

And then everything was moving again. But the world was a blur, and soon it got hard to focus even on Tim’s voice, or the direction they were moving. The vertigo was just too great. 

Before Dick finally passed out though, he could have sworn he saw Batman. Or maybe Bruce. Or maybe a strange, shadowy, hallucinogenic version of the two of them. 

Either way, between Tim and Bruce, Dick couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so safe. 

–

Like most things in their family, they didn’t immediately talk about what had happened. There was the standard “be more careful” lecture from Bruce, and a few follow-up screenings to make sure he was okay and there were no lingering effects. 

(And there were, not that he mentioned them. But … not being able to fall asleep at night, and having a sharp loss in appetite along with being wary about his morning coffee and water bottles … those weren’t physical responses. Those weren’t allergies or nausea or dizziness. Those were emotional, and they could be ignored until they went away on their own, just as usual.)

But, aside from those few check-ups, there was nothing.

Dick wasn’t really expecting there to be anything, either. It just wasn’t how things were done here. Maybe in the Titans Tower it was different sometimes, with friends just wanting to be there for each other. But this was Gotham and Wayne Manor and the Batcave. These were family members, not friends. And Dick was supposed to be the example for Tim. 

Making a bigger deal about what happened wasn’t something Bruce would encourage. 

It was a potentially traumatizing event, sure. But it wasn’t– she never–

It wasn’t followed through. 

He was fine. 

Or, if he wasn’t fine, he would be soon. 

Like most things that went wrong in his life, it was all too easy to sweep it under the rug and ignore it. 

So, imagine Dick’s surprise, when two nights later, he came into his room only to find the lights already on, and Tim sitting on his bed. The kid’s laptop was on his lap, and he was idly sipping from a mug – hot cocoa, from the smell of it, which was a pleasant change when compared to coffee. 

Tim had evidently been paying attention, because he hadn’t fixed Dick one already. Instead, there was an unopened bottle of water, microwave, empty mug, and cocoa sitting on a table across the room. 

“Uh,” Dick said. “Hello to you, too?”

Tim raised a brow at him over his mug. “Yeah, hey. My room was cold. Yours wasn’t. If you’re going to bed I’ll put in headphones, but…” 

“So what you’re saying is I’ve got a tenant for the night,” Dick said, shaking his head at him. Not like he minded; family bonding was something he had missed out on, with Jason. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. And if Tim took advantage of that, well, so be it. Dick headed over to the cocoa and started to make a cup for himself. “Fine by me, I guess. As long as you don’t spill cocoa onto my bed, you can stay.” 

“If I spill it on anything while my laptop is right here, you have permission to put me on the streets,” Tim said. He took another long sip, looking just a tad more careful after the reminder that he was drinking it around his several thousand dollar laptop. Hah. 

Dick’s hands trembled only a little, fortunately leading only to powdered cocoa spilling over the edge of the cup rather than water being spilled. Soon, the cup was slowly spinning in the microwave, and Dick watched it, more than a little distracted. 

“What brings you to my humble abode,” Dick said, not taking his eyes off of the way the microwave moved. “Aside from a totally non suspiciously broken thermostat.” 

“The building’s old, it’s not that suspicious,” Tim said, but didn’t deny that it was likely a lie. “Plus, your room has, you know…” 

Dick briefly glanced up at him. 

“It has you,” he finished. Tim took a long sip, and Dick’s smile turned almost smug when he saw the embarrassed flush of pink on his cheeks. “Anyways. I guess I came to make sure everything was okay between us.” 

It might have thrown Dick for a loop if he didn’t have a guess what Tim was talking about. There was still the temptation to pretend he hadn’t the faintest idea what his baby brother meant… But Tim was as much of a bat as any of them. Of course he knew better than to let Dick play dumb. “Yeah,” Dick said. “Everything’s fine between us, don’t worry about it.” 

Tim pulled his cup away, staring down into it. “And everything’s okay with you?”

That made Dick pause a little longer. 

But a wariness around opened drinks wasn’t something that would permanently change his life. He was a little tired, felt stretched a little thinner, felt a little more suspicious of women who flirted with him across the room. 

Occasionally felt a surge of  _panic_ when his body felt unexpectedly tired. 

But. 

He was still Nightwing. Still working. Still talking with his friends, and arguing with Bruce, and filling his time with the people in his life who loved him. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, then took out the cup of cocoa from the microwave. He took a long sip, pretending the heat didn’t burn his taste buds. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine, Tim.” He paused, a small but genuine smile touching the corners of his eyes. “Thanks.” 

Tim didn’t look entirely like he believed him. But he nodded back. “Anytime,” he said, words carrying a little too much weight to be casual. But Dick was grateful for it. 

He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what happened at the party would never happen again. 

Dick figured that was the best he could hope for.


End file.
